The Sword in the Stone
by W3R3W0LF666
Summary: A story of Arthur's beginning as a baby and as a young boy.
1. Chapter 1

=== The Sword in the Stone – A Merlin Fan Fiction. ===

Part 1 – Prophecies

The castle was full of crying that night. Half chocked sobs could be heard from behind closed doors and the occasional mournful wail echoed around the corridors. Yet now in the early hours of the morning all that had ceased except for one unique tone of sorrow and longing. The call of a small baby came from within the King's private chambers. After screaming at his servants to leave them both in peace, Uther could finally greave. Yet he always kept his composure, only the glint of the rising sun revealed his tears rolling down the wrinkles that were starting to form on his war worn skin. Yes he would morn but he would do it with a King's dignity. He didn't have the luxury of the servant kin able to wear his heart on his sleeve. He would not show weakness in the face of such an adversity. However there was no way he could deny the enormity of the tragedy. After giving him his first born son, his beloved wife had left this world.

Now this child, Uther looked down at him wriggling around his cot incapable of anything except crying hour after hour, a constant reminder of what Uther had lost. The one thing he wanted more than anything in the world was in front of him, his heir to the throne, but he tainted, by magic and misfortune. There was a strong confusion in the man, did he love or loathe, even he had not yet decided.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, Uther failed to notice the door creak open behind him. It was only when he felt the hand on his shoulder that he realised Gaius was standing behind him. "I am sorry my old friend." Uther placed his hand upon his friends could find no other words apart from "Gaius." He stood and walked to the window overlooking his courtyard as the sun started to rise above the turrets.

"How is the child?" Uther glanced at Gaius, then the cot and back to the courtyard and spoke with his back to his physician. "He is a product of Magic, tainted." Uther spat the words out as if allowing them to linger on his tongue would infect his whole being. "Sire, I wish not to bring this up so soon bu-"

"Then don't" barked Uther cutting Gaius short.

"But Sire, this need be addressed. Events have been set in motion now that will echo throughout the ages. You cannot ignore that forever." There was an uneasy silence left hanging in the room. Then in one sweep the King turned around was inches from Gaius, clenching his fists so tight his fingers bore into his palms. "Yet I can ensure that will not come to pass and I WILL make sure of Gaius do you hear me? No Magic will ever cross the borders of Camelot again; I was an old fool to let it in for my own gain."

Gaius placed his hands together gently and in soft tone tried to reason with the King once more. "With all due respect Sire, this is a Prophecy, they are not to be taken so lightly. They have a bad habit of coming to pass." Putting a finger to his temple the King replied with a question. "Is there anything else Gaius? If not consider yourself dismissed." The wise physician knew to take the hint, bowed and walked towards the door.

"One last thing Sire." Uther sat down raising an angry eyebrow. "No matter how he may of come into this world he is still your son, your only son. If nothing else should matter to you at this time, then this one fact should." With a final bow he bustled out of the room, leaving Uther to gather his thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

=== The Sword in the Stone – A Merlin Fan Fiction. ===

Part 2 – The Sword in The Stone

**15 Years Later**

Uther's heart was pounding; breath laboured yet his mind completely focused. A hunt required so much more than physical strength and endurance. His steed ran across the ground though it had wings and had taken flight. The rest of the hunting party was lopes behind him and the 12 point buck a full horse's length ahead. As he gained ground on the majestic beast he drew a knife from his belt and flicked the reigns to pull up alongside him. In one swift movement he drove its point into the stags neck. It stumbled and reared up onto its hind legs before crashing to the floor. Uther swung his steed around and it's hooves carved gashes in the earth as it attempted to stop.

Jumping down from his horse Uther watched the poor creature draw it last breath and breathless himself, turned his attention to his surroundings. He was deeper in the wood than he had first thought. The thrill of the chase had made him pay less attention to his navigation. The leaves were thicker here and the trees closer together looking as though they consorted against him. All apart from one cluster, that seemed to emanating their own light. As Uther drew closer he could see this was no more than a clearing, allowing the sun to steam to the moss covered forest floor. Yet something unnatural glinted at its centre. Furrowing his brow, the king continued forward.

The sound of the rest of the hunt was drawing in, no doubt following his tracks to ensure his safety. The horns sounded and he heard the men call out his name but he did not answer for he was in awe of the article before him. There in the clearing was a glistening, intricately forged sword embedded in solid rock. The hilt reflected the sunlight onto the ground casting in various colours as it fractured through several, precious stones. The handle was made of the finest, smallest chain link that interwoven in a spiral. Finally the swords pommel was made from appeared to be solid gold.

Only part of the blade was visible above the stone, but was completely free of any blemish or impurity. Not one scratch or scuff befouled the beautiful example of craftsmanship. Uther thought it almost a sin to touch it, yet he could not leave it here abandoned in his forest. Reaching out with one gloved hand, he secured a grip on the hilt and heaved. Yet there was no movement. He laid a second hand upon the sword, yet still it did not even move an inch. Taking two steps back from the object he contemplated what trickery this may be. It was in this state his riders found him.

"Sire, congratulations on what no doubt was another fine kill." One of his knights remarked. "It would be an honour if you allow us to carry your kill to castle for a courtly feast." Not taking his eyes off the sword, he mumbled a yes to the knight, who was attempted to eye the curious object in his peripheral vision. He could not seen to be lusting over an object the king so clearly desired. "Oh and Sir Kay, please have your squires also load this sword along with our stag. I want it placed in the courtyard when we return." With a bow, Sir Kay strode off to give his men their orders. Uther simply strode back to his steed and started on the journey home in silent contemplation.

The next day, the court was buzzing with rumours of the mystical sword within the stone. Only one thing was sure, the king was to hold a contest among his most noble of knights to draw the sword and retain it a prize. At midday crowds flooded the small courtyard, every last inch was taken. The peasants of the outer city watched from gates and atop high walls whereas the nobility were granted a position within the yard itself.

Uther took a seat upon his throne, which for the day had been moved to atop of the castle steps, and beckoned forth his first challenger. Sir Kay stepped forward, bowed to his lord and with a smirk upon his lips pulled. The crowd cheered and chanted but the smile turned to bewilderment as he was unable to move the object. The crowd noise subsided around him. He kept on trying until his hands were raw with the effort, until finally breathlessly leaning upon the stone, his arms trembling with weariness. He stepped aside to allow other knights a turn. They all used their own unique methods. Some tried cracking the stone itself, others tried various potions and concoctions to help ease the passing of the blade. Yet Uther looked on with concern weighing down his facial features.

All the while a boy of fifteen looked on cheering as hard as the rest. He watched the men in awe as they attempted to lift the weapon. One day soon he would start training to become one of them. He would have his own sword, his own armour and his own strength and whole armies as his command. This boy was the Prince of England, Arthur Pendragon.

_A/N: And enter our young prince. This fic was originally going to be in two parts until my descriptions ran away with me and it's now become three. So next time there's a lot more of our favourite prince of England. Thank you so much for the watches and reviews and sorry for the time it's taken to get this out. Third part should hopefully come much quicker :). Oh and one final thing this story is kinda based around Rick Wakeman's song "Arthur" (well worth a look on you tube), so it may have some inconstancies with the actual legend as I don't know exact details ;) _


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